


The Robbery

by charlock221



Series: 5 times Albert Mason had perfect timing, and 1 time his timing was terrible [6]
Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Happy Ending, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, things go wrong for the boys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-23
Updated: 2020-11-24
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:00:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27683927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/charlock221/pseuds/charlock221
Summary: It was a bad plan, but no one listened when Arthur voiced his doubts. Micah had come swaggering into Shady Belle one night, slinking up to Dutch and spinning him a story about a recently opened jeweler’s store he’d found tucked down one of Saint Denis’ narrow streets.Of course Arthur had been roped into it, and of course things went spectacularly wrong. This time, Albert Mason's appearance made it worse.Can be read alone but there will be references to the other parts in this series.
Relationships: Albert Mason & Arthur Morgan, Albert Mason/Arthur Morgan
Series: 5 times Albert Mason had perfect timing, and 1 time his timing was terrible [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1775863
Comments: 18
Kudos: 77





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Next chapter will be going up tomorrow, and then this series is done! Hope you like it :)

It was a bad plan, but no one listened when Arthur voiced his doubts. Micah had come swaggering into Shady Belle one night, slinking up to Dutch and spinning him a story about a recently opened jeweler’s store he’d found tucked down one of Saint Denis’ narrow streets, that only had one employee at a time and very few customers. It wasn’t known enough yet to be popular, and so Micah had taken it upon himself to rob it and bring the spoils back to Dutch.

“Anyone who wants an easy job is welcome to join me,” he called to camp. His eyes fell on Arthur, who was sitting at a table with Hosea and trying to ignore him. “How about you, cowpoke? Been a while since we worked together on somethin’, dontcha think?”

Arthur was about to say that was because he avoided doing anything with Micah whenever he could, but Dutch got there first, “That is an excellent idea, son,” he said, clapping Micah on the shoulder. “You’ve been in and out of the city a few times, haven’t you Arthur?”

“Sure,” Arthur said reluctantly, thinking of the last time he’d been to Saint Denis, when Albert Mason had helped him buy a new suit. He wondered what the photographer was doing today.

“Then you’ll know the best ways to go about without being noticed.”

Arthur frowned. “I think I oughta scout the place out for a while before we think about robbin’ it.”

Micah stepped forward, waving his hand dismissively. “I already done that, Morgan. Like I said, there’s only a few fellas that work there, and they’re on their own each time. Guess the owner can’t afford more staff. Unlucky for them,” he added with a smirk.

Dutch leveled a serious look at Arthur. “We need all the money we can get,” he said. “As quickly as we can get it.”

Arthur sighed, giving in. “Alright,” he muttered. “Who else is coming?”

“We gotta keep a low profile, and that’s gonna be hard with more than two of us. Ain’t you got confidence in our abilities?” Micah asked.

“I got confidence in mine, sure.”

“Arthur,” Dutch chided, while Hosea snorted behind his book. He looked to Micah. “When are you heading out?”

“Soon as Morgan is ready,” Micah answered, an eyebrow raised at Arthur’s surprise. “Best do it while we got the light, don’t you think? Less law keeping an eye out during the day.”

At least he could get it over and done with. “Fine,” he said, “Give me a few minutes.”

Micah disappeared as soon as Arthur agreed, off to gloat to the rest of camp about the big score he was about to bring in. Dutch nodded at Arthur, looking pleased, before marching back into the house.

“Why me?” Arthur groused under his breath, unwilling to get up from the table.

Hosea lowered his book, the corner of his mouth twisting as he bit back a smile. “Because you can’t say no to Dutch.”

“Micah only wants me to go so he can irritate me the whole time.”

“Well, don’t let him irritate you, then.”

“Just lookin’ at him irritates me.”

Hosea rolled his eyes. “The sooner you stop complaining, the sooner you can be back here to tell me how awful it was.”

Arthur sighed again. “I’ll enjoy that,” he conceded. He got up and headed over to his horse, making sure all his weapons were in check and he had enough supplies if something were to go wrong. Which, knowing Micah, it definitely would.

* * *

Micah had been predictably smug on the ride over, but Arthur had managed to tune most of his bluster out. He kept assuring Arthur, in his usual condescending tone, that he’d been keeping a close eye on the store, for at least two weeks. This did mollify Arthur somewhat, who had expected the other man to have taken a cursory glance at the place and deemed it easy pickings just from that.

As Micah had said, the jeweler’s store was hidden from the main streets of Saint Denis, nestled between a florist’s and a bakery. Two people were ambling down the sidewalk, taking no notice as Arthur and Micah hitched their horses nearby.

“What’d I tell ya?” Micah said in a low voice. “Nobody’ll remember us.”

“We goin’ in the front or the back?” Arthur asked as they waited for the strangers to turn down another street.

“Front. Be easier to see who else is inside. I’ll stay there while you look in the back, yeah?”

Arthur nodded, gesturing for Micah to go first. “After you, then.”

Micah grinned at him. “Now why can’t you always be this nice to me?”

“Get in there,” Arthur muttered, shoving him forward. They tugged bandanas over their faces and marched towards the store. Micah needed no more prompting; he pulled out his revolver and burst through the door, Arthur keeping close to him with his own gun raised.

“Everybody down, now!” Micah yelled, all traces of his relaxed demeanor replaced by a cold and calculating snake, ready to spit venom at whoever pissed him off first. Thankfully, there were no customers inside, just the assistant behind the counter. As soon as the man made to head for the back of the store, Micah said, “Ah, ah, ah. Stop there or you’ll be hobbling round on crutches for the rest of your days.” The assistant stopped, and slowly raised his hands, looking terrified as Micah came closer. “Open the display cases. Now.”

Arthur kept an eye on the street outside as the assistant began unlocking them with shaking hands. So far, it seemed that no one had noticed anything was amiss.

“I’m goin’ in the back,” he said to Micah, moving around the display cases. He saw the assistant’s head shoot up in alarm, confirming that there was more to be found. “There a safe through there, boy?” he asked.

“Y-Yes. In the office on the left.” the assistant said as he continued opening the display cases. Micah was following behind him, piling the jewelery into a bag he’d brought.

“Well then you’re gonna unlock it for me as soon as my colleague is finished with you.”

It was going well so far, which Arthur was admittedly surprised at. He’d half expected Micah to start shooting as soon as they got in, but he was glad that wasn’t the case. The less attention they drew to themselves, the more their chances of getting out smoothly increased.

Arthur opened the door and stepped into a small room with a table and chairs in the middle. He assumed this was where the staff stayed when there were no customers to attend to. He had also assumed it would be empty.

Unfortunately, that wasn’t the case. Albert Mason was sitting at the table, his eyes wide as he stared at Arthur. There was no doubt he knew it was Arthur, and the outlaw found himself freezing in the doorway, his gun suspended in mid-air. He’d been about to point it at the unknown person until he’d realized it was the photographer. 

“He’s all yours!” Micah called from the front of the store, as the assistant appeared behind Arthur, and then several things happened at once.

Two men entered the store, dressed in pinstripe suits and clearly carrying weapons, drawing Arthur’s attention. He recognized them as Angelo Bronte’s men just as the assistant whispered, “They want their protection money.”

As soon as they spotted Micah and Arthur, they pulled their guns, and Arthur wasted no time in grabbing the assistant and shoving him into the back room as Bronte’s men opened fire.

Meanwhile, Albert had gotten up and was pressed against the far wall, watching the door as Arthur slammed it shut. His eyes flickered to the store’s back exit to his right, and Arthur darted forward and grabbed Albert as he tried to run.

“Stop, Mason, stop,” Arthur grunted as Albert struggled in his grip. “I ain’t gonna hurt ya.”

“Let go of me!”

“Shh, for Christ’s sake!” Arthur managed to fling open the office door behind him with one hand whilst still keeping a hold of Albert. He caught the eyes of the terrified assistant, and growled, “Get in there.”

The assistant did as he was told, and darted inside as Arthur dragged Albert in. He kicked the door closed and pushed Albert’s back against it, his hands gripping the photographer’s arms tightly.

“You gotta keep quiet. I’m tryin’ to get you outta here.” Even through two doors, the sound of gunshots were loud and demanding. Micah was clearly putting up a good fight. A part of Arthur felt guilty for leaving him on his own, but he was more concerned with making sure Albert stayed safe.

“If that was true you would have let me leave when I tried to,” Albert said, and Arthur had never seen him so scared. He was still pushing against Arthur, trying to wriggle out of his grip, but Arthur was stronger.

Arthur looked to the assistant behind him. “Are there always two men?” he asked.

The assistant shook his head. “More of them usually wait outside, in case we don’t pay.”

Arthur looked back to Albert. “That’s why I didn’t let you leave. If you run they’ll think you work here and that you’re skippin’ out on payment.”

“I can take care of myself,” Albert argued. He had stopped struggling but now he was leaning against the door, as if he was trying to put as much space between he and Arthur as he could.

“We both know that ain’t true.”

Albert blushed as the assistant said, “There’s a basement hatch in the other room. A passage leads from here to the city bank. It’s how we transport the jewelery at night.”

“Perfect,” Arthur said, just as the door rattled behind Albert.

“Anyone alive in there?” Micah’s drawl sounded from the other side, and it was only now that Arthur realized the shooting had stopped. He kept one hand around Albert’s arm and moved him to the side, hoping Albert could hear the sincerity in his voice when he said, “Don’t move.”

Micah came in and looked at the three of them, his gaze lingering on Albert before he addressed Arthur. “Who’ve you got there?”

“It don’t matter,” Arthur said, knowing it wouldn’t be enough to satisfy Micah, but he quickly changed the subject. “You deal with the fellas out there?”  
“Yeah,” Micah said, huffing out a breath. “No thanks to you.”

“I thought you’d scouted this place. You ain’t seen them come in before?”

“Well I wasn’t here all day, every day, was I? Could’ve easily missed ‘em.”

“Clearly,” Arthur bit out.

“What the hell have you been doin’ back here, anyway? You couldn’t have helped me?”

“I was a little busy.”

“It don’t look like it.” Micah raised his gun at the assistant and said, “Open the safe.” He gestured to the black safe sitting in the corner of the office.

“They were Bronte’s men,” Arthur said in a low voice as the assistant hurriedly complied with Micah’s demand.

Micah hummed, his attention back on Albert. “What are you gonna do about him?”

“I’ll deal with him once we work out how we’re getting out of here. The boy said there’s an underground passage–”

“Do ya work here, too?” he asked Albert directly.

“No,” Albert said, his voice strained, “I – I was hired to photograph some of the jewelery–”

Micah had already lost interest. “Just shoot him.”

“What?” Albert tensed under Arthur’s grip, his eyes darting between the outlaws.

Micah gestured to the photographer, “Shoot him already. I know you like to think you’re all honorable but we don’t need him running to the cops the minute we’re gone.”

“I said I’d deal with him,” Arthur repeated. He wanted to push Albert behind him, but that would only alert Micah to the fact that there was more going on. Even though Albert was stood next to him, he was too exposed for Arthur’s liking. Micah made decisions without giving them a second thought, and Arthur wouldn’t be quick enough if he decided to shoot Albert himself.

Micah’s expression hardened, obviously not expecting Arthur to refuse. “What were you saying about a passage?”

“There’s one in the other room, underneath a hatch. It comes out near the bank. We oughta use it if we don’t want to run into anymore of Bronte’s men. They’ll be getting suspicious that the other two haven’t returned.”

Micah raised an eyebrow, catching onto Arthur’s plan to divert his attention. “I’m gonna find the hatch and if I come back and he’s not dead, I’m shooting him myself.” He closed the door behind him, and Albert immediately tried to pull himself out of Arthur’s grip.

“Let me go, please let me go,” he begged, sounding so scared that Arthur almost complied.

“Just wait a minute,” he said, “I just need a minute to think.”

“I don’t _have a minute_.”

“Shh, shh!”

“Arthur please.” Albert stepped closer, gripping Arthur’s shirt. “He’s going to kill me, he said–”

“Don’t say my name, I ain’t–”

“Screw your damn name, Arthur Morgan!” Albert shouted, ripping Arthur’s bandana down with his free hand. “Is that really all you can think about?”

“Of course it ain’t, but I’m trying to get us all out of here in one piece!”

“You’re trying to protect you and your friend _who wants to kill me_!”

“I’ve got the safe open!” the assistant shouted over them, one arm outstretched holding a large bag of money. Distracted, Arthur automatically grabbed it, only realizing his mistake when he felt Albert’s knee hit him in the crotch, and he cursed and bent over in pain. Albert pulled his arm free and pushed through the door, the assistant close behind him.

“No!” Arthur called, staggering to the doorway as Albert dodged past Micah’s hand and ran out the back door. The assistant stumbled the opposite direction, escaping through the front of the store.

“Real fucking smart, Morgan,” Micah snapped, readying his gun and marching to the back door, taking aim at Albert’s fleeing figure running down the street.

“Micah, stop!” He knocked Micah’s arm as he fired and the shot went wild. Albert heard it, though, and he disappeared down an alleyway.

“The hell is wrong with you?” Micah demanded, shoving Arthur out of the way as he chased after Albert. “We can’t let him get to the police, idiot.”

Micah was too far ahead for him to catch up, so Arthur headed left down a different alley, hoping he’d find Albert before Micah did. As he crossed the street he could see suited men walking quickly towards the store, and he hoped they hadn’t spotted him leaving the place.

People were running around already, panicked at the gunfight that Bronte’s men had drawn Micah into. Arthur couldn’t see any signs of the law as he dodged between men and women down various alleys and streets, but he was more preoccupied with getting to Albert. He hadn’t expected to be as scared as he was when Micah had threatened to kill him, and even now his heart was thumping heavily at the thought of finding the photographer too late. He kept the location of the police station in mind as he went left and right and on and on, but there was no sign of Albert. He hoped the other man was doing the sensible thing and going to the police, but half the time Arthur could never tell what was going through his head.

He heard footsteps echoing from somewhere behind him, off to his right, and Arthur reached the crossroad first and grabbed Albert as he ran past, one hand covering the photographer’s mouth to muffle the shout that came from him.

“It’s me, it’s me, it’s me,” he repeated quickly, dragging Albert back the way he came. Surprisingly, Albert stopped struggling and let Arthur pull him along.

“He’s behind me,” Albert gasped, his chest heaving.

“This way.” They ended up in a small courtyard surrounded by tall walls that they couldn’t climb over. Arthur led Albert over to a corner where there was a slim gap between one of the buildings and a wall, and they hurried into it, keeping away from the opening. Arthur’s hands rested on Albert’s forearms, making him stop when he deemed them a safe distance away. Albert leaned against the building, holding tightly to Arthur’s shirt and forcing him close. Albert’s eyes fell closed as Arthur kept his towards the courtyard, straining to hear any other footsteps that would warn them of Micah’s whereabouts. His heart was still pounding quickly, and he could feel Albert’s from where they were pressed together, beating just as frantically.

After five minutes of hearing nothing, Arthur allowed himself to relax. “I think we’re okay,” he said softly.

Albert let go of Arthur, his hands dropping to his sides. “You can step back now,” he said, his voice strained. Arthur did as he said and made his way to the courtyard, keeping his senses alert in case he was wrong. No danger presented itself, though, and so he watched with a worried frown as Albert followed him out.

“Y’alright?” he asked.

Albert nodded once, quickly. He wasn’t looking at Arthur but the outlaw could see the shine that coated his eyes and the way he was blinking quickly.

Arthur cleared his throat and glanced away, trying to think of any way to salvage the situation, to ease Albert’s distress, but he’d ruined things too much to be resolved.

He pointed west, ahead of him. “The station’s that way, if you’re lookin’ for it,” he said.

“Yes. I know,” Albert said. He walked past Arthur and paused at the courtyard’s exit, looking back at him. “It’s probably best we don’t see each other again, I think. Goodbye, Mr. Morgan.”

Arthur’s heart clenched painfully, and as Albert turned the corner he muttered, “Goodbye, Mr. Mason.”

* * *

Micah was waiting for him when he arrived back at Shady Belle some time later.

“Thought you’d been beaten up by that guy, Morgan,” he said as Arthur dismounted his horse. His temper had mellowed back to his usual smugness, amplified even more by the mistakes Arthur had made today. “Wouldn’t have surprised me.”

“Did you get him?” Arthur asked, pretending to care.

“Nearly. I wouldn’t have had to try if you’d just done what I’d told you. What happened to ya, cowpoke?”

“It don’t matter,” Arthur muttered as he made his way towards the large house. Micah followed him, his voice grating on Arthur’s nerves.

“It kinda does, though. See now I don’t know if somethin’ like that’s gonna happen on our next job, and how’re we supposed to get anythin’ done if I can’t trust my partner?”

“You won’t have to worry about that, Micah, because I ain’t doing another damn job with you.”

Micah snorted. “Well apart from your blundering at the end there, I thought we did pretty good.” His attention was drawn as they got closer to camp, and Micah put on a burst of speed, striding over to where Dutch and Hosea were sitting. “Dutch, wait ‘til you see what we got for you!” he called, rummaging in his satchel for his spoils. “I gotta say, Morgan let me down a little, but I sorted it out, don’t you worry.” As Dutch got up and accompanied Micah to where the rest of the gang was sitting around the fire, Hosea eyed Arthur’s approach with a wry smile.

“Somehow, I find that a little hard to believe,” he said, but the smile dropped when Arthur tossed the bag of money onto the table and headed straight into the house, not stopping to talk to anyone.


	2. Chapter 2

Arthur was standing next to his window, staring at the stars when there was a knock at his door. He sighed, not wanting to talk to anyone. A moment later, the door opened and soft footsteps entered, his bed creaking as his unwanted guest sat down.

“What happened?” Hosea asked.

“Just the usual trouble,” Arthur muttered. “Ran into some of Bronte’s men. Things went wrong. People got hurt.” He huffed a dry laugh. “Wasn’t actually Micah’s fault this time.”

“You seemed pretty angry at him when you two got back.”

Arthur shrugged. “I ain’t fond of his ‘shoot first, ask questions later’ approach. He wouldn’t listen to me. Same as always.”

Hosea was quiet for a moment, and Arthur thought he was satisfied with his answers, when he then said, “What aren’t you telling me?”

“Nothing, Hosea. I just wanted some time alone.”

The older man got up from the bed and stood next to him, looking up at the sky with a small smile. “Did you ever run into that person who showed the stars to you again?”

Hosea had an annoying knack for connecting the dots and identifying the root of the problem. “Yeah. A couple of times.”

Hosea was watching him with a raised eyebrow, clearly waiting for more. “Me and Bessie used to go stargazing. It was rather romantic.” When Arthur didn’t say anything, he rolled his eyes. “What’s her name?”

“There ain’t a woman.”

“Oh please. You’ve got that same look on your face when you were having trouble with Mary. Is it Mary? You went to see her recently, didn’t you?”

“It ain’t Mary,” he said shortly.

“But it _is_ someone,” Hosea surmised, and Arthur sighed in frustration. “Alright. Don’t tell me who it is. But you saw them today, didn’t you?”

“Yeah. I held ‘em hostage in that damn jewelery store.”

Hosea winced. “That is unfortunate.”

“Micah tried to shoot them.”

“Ah.”

Arthur fell quiet, his gaze dropping to the ground far below him. “I got ‘em away, but… we won’t be seeing each other again.”

“I’m sorry, son,” Hosea said gently, one hand coming to Arthur’s back.

“It doesn’t matter. We weren’t even – we never got that far anyway. We were just friends.”

“Well, losing a friend can be just as hard.”

“I guess.”

“Is there anything I can do?”

“Not unless you can wipe today from his memory,” Arthur muttered, still staring at the dark grass swaying in the night breeze.

There was silence for a few beats before Hosea said, “I’m afraid I can’t quite do that. What’s his name?”

Realizing his mistake, Arthur froze, a wave of dread crashing over him before the rational part of his brain pointed out that Hosea didn’t sound angry or disgusted. Just curious.

“Albert,” he said hoarsely, looking out of the corner of his eye for Hosea’s reaction. The older man smiled slightly, tilting his head when he saw Arthur watching him.

“Means ‘noble and bright’,” he told him.

Arthur nodded slightly. “Yeah. That’s him.”

“He took you stargazing?”

“Well. He didn’t _take_ me anywhere. I was already there. He just appeared and started tellin’ me about ‘em.”

“What’s he do?”

Arthur huffed a laugh. “He’s a wildlife photographer. Concerns himself with the preservation of dangerous animals but he ain’t got no sense of preservation for himself.”

Hosea’s smile brightened. “I like the sound of him. Tell me more.”

* * *

Little did Arthur know that Hosea had an ulterior motive in wanting to know more about Albert. Arthur didn’t see him the next day, which he was partly glad about. While it was reassuring to know that Hosea didn’t hold any judgement for how he felt about Albert, Arthur still felt embarrassed about being so honest. He didn’t really want to talk – or think – about Albert again, not when things ended so sourly, so Hosea’s absence let him get on with small jobs around the camp.

He was distributing hay between the horses that afternoon when Hosea returned, looking pleased with himself. Arthur nodded to him and continued working, only stopping when he realized Hosea was behind him.

He frowned at the older man, a hay bale still in his hands. “Where you been?”

“Saint Denis,” Hosea answered, resting against a hitching post and lighting a cigarette.

Arthur’s frown deepened. “Lookin’ for a job?”

“No, not quite.”

Arthur stared at him, unamused. “What, then?”

“I stopped by the jeweler’s store. Offered my sympathies to the owner who was clearing up the mess.”

“Mm-hm.”

“Chatted with him awhile.”

“Hosea.”

“And I got the address of the photographer he’d hired to capture his jewelery.”

Arthur threw the hay bale to the ground. “You went lookin’ for him?” he asked, anger coloring his tone.

“No, but I thought you might want to,” Hosea said, withdrawing a slip of paper from his jacket.

“Well, I don’t.” He turned his back, grabbing a bucket of water and pouring it into a trough.

“Don’t you think it’s worth a try, to speak with him?” Hosea asked.

“Yesterday he was terrified I was gonna get him killed, or that I’d kill him myself. Somehow I don’t think he’ll have forgiven me by today.”

“You won’t know until you go and apologize.”

Arthur tossed the bucket aside, glaring at the other man. “He doesn’t want to see me, Hosea, and I can’t blame him for that. I put him in danger and it was my own damn fault.”

Hosea was quiet as Arthur stalked off, sitting down at the fire between John and Sadie before Hosea could catch him on his own again.

“What’s got you so worked up?” John asked, elbowing him to get his attention.

Arthur batted his arm away. “None of your damn business, Marston.”

He knew John and Sadie were exchanging looks behind his back but he didn’t care. He had been trying to forget about yesterday’s disastrous encounter, and now Hosea was putting thoughts in his head, little ‘what if’ scenarios playing through his mind if he went to see Albert. He wouldn’t, though. Albert had made it clear he wanted nothing more to do with Arthur, and Arthur didn’t want to upset him anymore.

He should have known, really, that nothing could come of his little meetings with the photographer. After Albert had helped him find a suit, and had stood so close to him and gave him earnest compliments, Arthur had spent nights in Shady Belle imagining what might happen the next time they came across each other. He was foolish to get his hopes up, though. Really, it was for the best that this had happened. He couldn’t bear the thought of losing Albert like he had lost Eliza and Isaac all those years ago. To have things end in a similar way to how his relationship with Mary ended was much better than the alternative.

He couldn’t stay with the others for the rest of the day, though, and in the evening Hosea cornered him as he was going upstairs to his room. Hosea stopped him on the stairs and grabbed his arm. Arthur sighed and waited for the other man to say his piece.

“I really think you should try to speak with Albert,” he said, his voice quiet and mindful of the rest of the gang outside.

It was odd hearing Hosea say Albert’s name. Arthur wasn’t sure yet if he liked it. He stayed silent, waiting.

“Consider it, at least. It would be a shame to lose the connection you have with him.”

“You don’t know anything about it,” Arthur muttered.

“No,” Hosea answered with a tired smile. “And I’m realizing that there are a lot of things you don’t tell us. But I remember that night you returned to camp after you went stargazing with him.”

“I didn’t _go_ stargazing–”

“You were happy.” Hosea spoke over him, relaxing his hold on Arthur. “In a much better mood than the one you stormed off in, that’s for certain. Anyone who can calm your temper is worth holding onto, I think.”

“It’s too dangerous, Hosea,” Arthur said, tiredness in his tone. “He shouldn’t have to worry about himself if I’m with him.”

“Arthur, I know you’d do everything you could not to put him in such a position. That’s what you do even with folks you don’t know. Ask yourself, what would’ve happened if you hadn’t robbed that jeweler’s?”

“Mason wouldn’t be angry with me.”

“Yes, but more importantly: Micah would have gone with someone else. He had his mind set on robbing the place, and if you’d said no, he’d have taken Bill with him, or Javier. Regardless, nobody else would have put as much effort into ensuring Albert’s safety as you did. You kept him safe, even if you did terrify him first. You should stop being so hard on yourself, and just see what happens if you pay him a visit. You might be surprised.”

“Sure, surprised with a visit from the sheriff,” Arthur said, but Hosea’s words were sinking in.

“Arthur,” Hosea chided, rolling his eyes. “Sleep on it, okay?”

* * *

He slept on it for a few days, which was not what Hosea had wanted, going by the raised eyebrows Arthur received every time he passed him. Eventually, he gave in. Hosea had planted the possibility of a positive outcome in his mind, and if he didn’t go, he would be haunted by what could have been. He got the address from Hosea, who handed it over with a satisfied smile, and set out for Saint Denis that evening.

Albert was staying in a room above the saloon, and as Arthur was climbing the stairs with the intention of knocking on doors until he found him, he was stopped by the bartender.

“Can I help you, sir?” the man called, watching him with a frown.

Arthur sighed and headed to the bar. “Just lookin’ for a friend,” he said. “He’s stayin’ in one of your rooms.”

The bartender shook his head. “Our last one checked out about ten minutes ago. Ain’t nobody up there now.”

A pit of disappointment formed in Arthur’s stomach. “My friend is Albert Mason. You remember when he left?”

The bartender smiled. “Sure. Nice fella. I’m afraid you just missed him. He’s the one who checked out just now. Said he was returnin’ home.”

“He say where ‘home’ was?” Arthur gripped the bar, desperate for any more information.

“Nope.”

Arthur blew out a breath of frustration. He tapped the bar. “Appreciate your help,” he said before darting out of the saloon and hopping up onto his horse. The only home Arthur could think of that Albert might return to was New York, and if that was the case, he needed to get to the docks quickly.

The night was drawing in but tall gas lamps illuminated the line of people waiting to board a steamboat, each person halted by a couple of guards at the bottom of the gangway. The hooves of Arthur’s horse clattered loudly against the cobblestone streets as he drew nearer, and as he looked closer his heart stuttered at the sight of a familiar straw boater boarding the boat, a suitcase in the photographer’s hand.

He stopped his horse in the middle of the street and ran towards the gangway.

“Mason!” he called. “Albert!” The two guards blocked his entry onto the boat but Arthur was only concerned with Albert, who had spun at his name being called and was now looking at Arthur with a confused expression.

The guards were pushing him back, trying to get him away from the line of people gawking at him. Arthur yanked his arm out the reach of one of them and held up his hands. “I ain’t tryin’ to cause trouble,” he said, hoping to sound amenable. “I just gotta talk with my friend up there.”

The men cast a glance back to Albert, who was still staring frozen at Arthur. “Looks like he doesn’t wanna talk to you,” one of them said.

“Mason, please,” he said, raising his voice. “And then I’ll leave you alone.”

People in the queue were muttering to themselves, annoyed at the delay. The guards continued to push Arthur away, telling him to go and annoy someone else, but Arthur kept his feet planted firmly on the ground, waiting for an answer.

Albert was casting glances at the onlookers, looking uncomfortable. When one of the guards shoved Arthur enough to make him lose his balance, Albert made a noise and started down the gangway.

“It’s alright,” he said hurriedly, shooting an apologetic smile at the guards. “I’m sorry for my, um, friend. I’ll deal with him.”

“See that you do,” one of them muttered as Arthur righted himself and resisted the urge to throw a punch. They went back to directing people aboard the boat, leaving Arthur alone with Albert, finally.

Albert cleared his throat, not looking at Arthur. “Well?” he asked.

Arthur glanced around them, aware that they were standing in the middle of the street. “Mind going somewhere more private?”

“A little, yes. The boat departs in fifteen minutes.”

“It won’t take long.”

Albert sighed, and then nodded once. “Lead the way, then,” he said, his voice tired.

Arthur began walking towards the nearest park, Albert trailing just behind him, as if to keep his eyes on him. The outlaw looked over his shoulder at him. “Want me to carry your suitcase?” he offered.

“No thank you.”

The ensuing silence was painful, a far cry from the usually friendly atmosphere Albert’s presence brought. The streets were practically empty, but Arthur kept going until they reached the park gates, where he slowed to a stroll, thinking the following conversation would be less awkward if they weren’t standing in the middle of the grass.

“I, uh, came to apologize,” he began, his eyes on the ground as they walked, “for what happened on Monday.” He looked across to Albert, who met his gaze with a raised eyebrow.

“Okay,” was all Albert said.

“I’m sorry if I scared ya.” He saw Albert frown, and hastily added, “I shouldn’t have grabbed you the way I did.”

“…Right.”

“And, uh, I shouldn’t have forced you to stay in that room.”

Albert looked unconvinced, and Arthur couldn’t blame him. This wasn’t working out the way he wanted it to.

“If I’d have known you were in there…” He trailed off, already knowing that was the wrong thing to say. A noise of frustration left his throat. “I ain’t doin’ this right,” he muttered.

Albert stopped and turned to him. “No, you’re not,” he said. “Can I return to the boat now?”

Arthur sighed, his hands clenching and unclenching as he tried to get his thoughts in order. “I won’t stop you,” he answered. “But I – I’m not finished.”

The photographer looked like he wanted to say something, but he stayed quiet and gestured for Arthur to continue.

Arthur took a breath and then started again. “I’m sorry you got caught in the middle of what we were doing–”

“But you’re not sorry for robbing the store?” Albert cut in, sounding disappointed.

“Well, uh, sure I am,” he stuttered, surprised by the interruption.

“Oh. So you’ve apologized to the owner, then?”

“Not – not yet; I wanted to see you first.”

“But when you do see him, you’re going to return the money and jewelery you stole?” Albert continued, annoyingly persistent, making Arthur’s hackles rise.

“Will you let me finish what I’m tryin’ to say first?” he ground out, trying to get his thoughts straight.

“Not when you’re lying to me, Arthur,” Albert argued, growing irritated. “I let you speak, and you came out with some half-hearted apology that showed no real remorse. You’re covering for yourself again, like you did–”

“That’s not what I’m doing–”

“Like you did when you _held me at gunpoint_ –”

“I’m tryin’ not to lose you, God damnit!” Arthur yelled.

“You’ve already done that!” Albert responded, his voice cracking. “You lost me long before that robbery, Arthur. How could you think otherwise?”

All of the fight went out of Arthur, his worst fears confirmed. “I did?” he echoed, not wanting to know even as he asked.

Albert ignored him. “I wanted you to be different. I didn’t believe what the papers wrote about you because that didn’t correspond with the man I knew. But then in you come on Monday, taking me and that poor assistant hostage while your friend threatens to kill me.”

“He ain’t my friend–”

“ _Do you think I care_?” Albert snapped, and Arthur tried not to react with surprise at seeing the photographer angry. “Does your family know how you earn your way, or is everyone involved?”

Arthur frowned, lost at what Albert was getting at. “My family?”

“Your wife, _your son_.”

Arthur blinked, wondering how the hell he knew about Isaac. “I don’t… have a wife.”

Albert faltered, his anger briefly dissipating. “Well then, whoever she was, is she–?”

“Whoever _who_ was?”

“That woman you met the last time I saw you here!”

The memory of Mary, leaning over the balcony of her hotel and waving while Albert stood next to him suddenly appeared, and Arthur shook his head. “No. She’s – we used to be engaged, but that fell apart a long time ago.”

Albert stared at him for a moment, “And your son? Who you told me about when you went boating with me?”

Arthur remembered the day, and the conversation. “Not my kid. He’s my, uh, nephew. ‘Fraid that was just… bad phrasing.” He wasn’t ready to talk about Isaac yet.

Albert was still adjusting to what he’d been told. “Oh,” he said absentmindedly, and then met Arthur’s eyes. “I’m still angry.”

The outlaw nodded. “I don’t blame ya.” He looked to the ground, shuffled his boots against the dirt. “I have a family. Of sorts. Most folk would call it a gang.”

“I’m aware.”

“But they are my family, and I’d do anythin’ for ‘em. Some of ‘em, they need lookin’ after, and for that we need money.”

Albert sighed. “Everyone needs money, Arthur. Do you think I was photographing those rings and necklaces because I wanted to?”

“I know. It’s just… I can’t walk away. Sometimes I want to. Whenever I see you, I want to. But those folk raised me, and I can’t abandon them.”

Albert shook his head, torn. “You can’t just say that to me,” he said quietly, “Not when you scared the living daylights out of me four days ago.”

Arthur kept his eyes on the ground, “I was scared as well,” he said, “I thought I was gonna watch you die.”

They both fell quiet, the noises of the city dampened by the trees scattered around them. Arthur didn’t dare move in case it reminded Albert he needed to go, but he had more to say.

“I’m tryin’ to be better,” he muttered. “I don’t… I don’t always like what happens on a job. Even if you hadn’t been at the store, I woulda done my best to keep that assistant alive. But my… associate, he don’t care about other people. I try to avoid workin’ with him, when I can, but I’m real glad I came along on Monday.”

Albert huffed a small laugh. “I suppose I should be, too. No doubt you saved my life. So… thank you, for that.”

“Don’t,” Arthur said, shaking his head. “I don’t deserve it.”

“Maybe not,” Albert replied, “But you did do your best to keep myself and that assistant alive, I can see that. I know what it’s like to feel responsible for other people, and while I can’t understand the desire to break the law, I trust you when you say you’re doing what you can to protect innocent people.”

Albert sighed again, but it didn’t sound as heavy as last time. “I really do have to return to New York,” he said, and Arthur’s heart sank. “But I’m glad you came to see me.” A hesitant hand touched Arthur’s, and he looked up to see the photographer smiling slightly. “And I’m sure I can think of a reason to come back every now and then.”

Overwhelmed with relief, Arthur tugged Albert closer and kissed him, a burst of warmth sparking as Albert’s hands cradled his face, keeping him there. He hadn’t meant to act but the knowledge that Albert wanted to see him again was more than he’d hoped for, and the fact that Albert wasn’t pulling away in disgust was making him happier than he’d been in a long time.

They pulled apart sooner than Arthur would have liked but it was for the best; although they were on their own there was a chance that someone could come by any time.

Albert dropped his hands from Arthur’s face to his collar. His cheeks were flushed and he was trying not to smile. “I think I’ve missed my boat,” he said.

“You really gotta go back?”

“Unfortunately yes. Although I think I can wait until the next boat departs in a couple of days.” He glanced up, nodding in the direction of the stars. “I could stay here a while, at least.”

Arthur smiled, fighting not to roll his eyes. “S’pose I could hang around, even if you are gonna run on about the stars.”

Albert batted his chest, stepping away and heading over to sit on a nearby bench. “I’m a boring fool, but at least I’ll know how to navigate my way home when I get lost.”

“You’re certainly a fool,” Arthur said, sitting next to him and stretching his arm behind Albert, smiling as the photographer looked up at the sky, “but I wouldn’t change a damn thing.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And it's done! Thank you to everyone who has read the series, I really hope you liked each part! Sorry it's taken so long lol. Please comment what you thought about it if you have a moment, but otherwise have a lovely day!

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos are always appreciated!


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